


Miracles

by aneclipsedhabitue



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, TW: Blood, Teninch Fic, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneclipsedhabitue/pseuds/aneclipsedhabitue
Summary: What happens when wishing is all there is left?





	Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of The Wind Rises. (Partially, my fic is much more harsh than the film. Read the tags.)
> 
> This just a short little something I wanted to write. I'd rate it as meh XD
> 
> Has spoilers for the show Spies of Warsaw!!!

Jean-François Mercier didn’t believe in miracles.

He prayed for one when his first wife fell ill with consumption, and never got one.

He prayed for another when he gave Anna Skarbek an ultimatum to release her then boyfriend Max, and he never got that too.

He even prayed for a miracle to bring him peace from the guilt of the Countess’ death, one of his top contacts under his care, he never got that either.

Pain and heartache, one after another, Jean-François ultimately decided that unlike his fellow veteran brethren, he was not a man of faith.

So when he received a telegram while on a mission in Africa, stating that his new love, his best love had fallen ill with a lung hemorrhage—Jean-François once again cursed the sky and world around him.

He hounded his supervisors, at one point would not leave their office until they let him go, mission be damned. She needs him, and he needs to be there.

On the train ride home, thoughts of her face, her smile, her voice. The way her sunlit brown eyes crinkled when she saw a pretty garden. The contrast of her brown curly hair resting atop her favorite yellow gown. The softness of her lips pressed against his, the curve of her waist and the way tears flowed from her eyes when he made her feel relief in bed.

  
_They met in a flower shop. He hadn’t a clue what to get for a girl he was courting after Anna left, so he just grabbed whatever. It wasn’t until he felt a finger poke his back and was met with the incredulous stare of this tiny woman in front of him._ _  
_

_“You ain’t serious.” She said._ _  
_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_“You don’t have tall gladioli and lily of the valley in the same bouquet.” She gestured to his hands which were indeed holding said flowers._ _  
_

_“Is that was these are?”_ _  
_

_“Oh blimey, here. Put those back, let me do the shopping.” She started walking around the aisles and gestured for him to follow._ _  
_

_“Do you work here Miss—?”_ _  
_

_“Mauren. Betty Mauren. And no I don’t. But I know flowers and if it’s a girl you’re trying to win, you’d best get her something nice.”_ _  
_

_“Well, what do you recommend Miss Mauren?”_ _  
_

_“What’s the girl like?” She stopped and faced him._ _  
_

_He was perplexed by her. Soft brown curly hair, doe eyes and full lips. She wore a simple dress but blimey, she was cute._ _  
_

_“Actually…” He took a step towards her, “I’m more interested to know what you are like?”_ _  
_

_Her dumbfounded expression was enough for Mercier to “regretfully” cancel plans with the lovely Charlotte in favor of taking the tiny flower girl out to dinner._

 

“Betty,” he whispered to the sky, “please be okay.”

~*~*~

Betty laid in her bed, in her shabby little flat in the center of Leeds. She hadn’t a clue what happened. One day while out in her garden, she noticed a stain of red in her peonies. And then another, and another. The sheer pain of those stains gushing from her insides made Betty want to sob, but the more she sobbed the more they came.

It wasn’t until 6 minutes later when a neighbor noticed Betty’s fallen form in her flowers and rushed to get a doctor.

The whole time Betty was being examined, despite the doctor’s recommendations, despite the whimpers of her sister as she stood in the corner of the dark room. All Betty could think of was, _I wish he was here. I wish my Jean-François was here._

The doctors had no answers, they couldn’t find what was wrong. They couldn’t tell if it would get better or worse. All they said was, stay in bed.

Stay in bed. Wait and see.

To Betty’s sister Margaret, that was enough to travel to Mercier’s office and demand to send a message.

~*~*~

Betty hadn’t spoken since the doctor left. And since 2 days ago, she refused to eat. No matter how much Margaret insisted.

“Betty, luv. Ya can’t keep goin’ like this. What’s your Mercier gonna say when he sees you all shriveled up like this.”

This caused Betty to cry, “He can’t see me like this. He ain’t coming.“

Margaret just pursed her lips together and silently prayed that her message got across.

~*~*~

Jean-François wasted no time getting from the train station in London to Leeds. He spent his last pay on a cab and ran 6 blocks to Betty’s house.

He was exhausted, hungry and dirty but there was something else too, an aching desperation. She had to be okay, she just had to be.

He met Margaret at the door, and his heart plummeted when Margaret told him how Betty was. Pale, sweaty, and starved for 4 days.

“Let me see her Margaret, I have to see her.”

She nodded, “I’ll go out and get some air. There’s warm soup on the dresser, see if _you_ can get her to eat.”

 

Betty had her eyes closed. She wasn’t asleep but she found that the more she looked at the wall, the more rapid her breathing was—hence, more painful. She was immersed into her own world that she didn’t hear the door open.

Jean-François’ heart broke at the sight of her. Those beautiful brown curls were flat and thin, her peach coloured skin and greyed, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her plump cheeks were hollow. He swallowed down bile. _It’s her. It’s Betty, my Betty._

He took a step closer to her and heard her breathing become more slow and agonizing.

_Whatever is doing this to her–to me as well, may it riot in agony._

Betty felt a spoon of warm soup hit her lips, and she tried to turn her head when a firm voice said, “Eat.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she met the hard eyes of her love. Despite the frown in his brow, he had a soft smile on his face.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

He set the soup down on the dresser and gently wrapped his arms around her, only hugging her tighter when she did first.

She pulled back and rested her head into the pillow. His face hovered over hers and for a moment, Betty felt light. Her mind flashed images of them laughing, holding hands. Him on top of her as he made love to her beneath the stars. She took a deep breath ignoring the ache, and looked in his eyes. “You—why, I don’t…”

He just smiled down at her, “I wish I came sooner.”

“Who told you?” But Betty knew the answer before he even blinked, “Ugh. Margaret.”

“I’m glad she told me! I’m hurt that you wouldn’t.” His hand rested on her cheek.

“You were busy.”

“I’ll always have time for you.” His thumb began to move.

“Jean-François…”

His lips pressed into hers, stifling her cry of surprise. He pressed his lips to hers over and over, over her cheeks, down her nose, across her eyebrow, and he kissed her tears.

“Jean-François….”

“Betty, my Betty, my brilliant Betty. You are so beautiful. So so beautiful.” He kept whispering that to her and kept kissing her tears.

“I’m–I’m not. And you’ll catch it!” She whispered.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, “I love you, Betty.”

Her dry lips parted in a silent gasp. It had been so long since she heard that from him.

More tears came to her eyes and she whispered it back to him and was kissed so passionately she was worried her heart would give out.

He gently laid in the bed with her and stroked her hair, “We’ll get through this, Betty. Something in my heart tells me.”

“Like a miracle?” She whispered.

And for the first time since he heard the news, tears pooled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. “Yes, Betty. A miracle. I realize now, miracles don’t save lives, they bring them together. We met in that flower shop and since that day, every moment of my time with you has been my miracle."

More tears from her, “You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Am, Betty. I _am_ the best, because we are not done. I’m here now and I’m staying with you until whatever this is is gone. Do you hear me?” He ran his fingers down her shoulder and settled them on her blanketed hip.

She nodded silently and kissed his chest.  
“Jean-François?”

“Yes?” He sniffled a bit.

“Can I have the soup?”

He laughed against her hair and kissed her cheek. “Please.”

  
Jean-François thought he didn’t believe in miracles, but in 3 weeks when Betty was back, breathing in deep the fresh Leeds air in her garden, he finally found his faith. Perhaps not in what any church told him, but more in his faith _in her._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you don’t hate me too much! Do yourself a favor and check out that movie. If you love gorgeous animation, 20th century films and a sweet romance go see that film!


End file.
